


Soon Goodbye, Now Love

by teaclipse



Series: Soon Goodbye, Now Love [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaclipse/pseuds/teaclipse
Summary: a year and a half ago, Beca saved Chloe's life with payment of her eternal commitment as a guardian angel and removal of all of Chloe's memories of their long and close friendship together. After her angel-training in heaven, beca manages to hijack the system to allow her to guard Chloe on earth, but has to hide their entire past from Chloe n is SAD abt it.





	1. Soon The Air

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this song
> 
> tw’s: death, mentions of sex, mentions of starvation/hunger, depression.
> 
> angst/fluff/whatever the poetic deep category of fic writing this fits into.
> 
> there is a death but like its not really death more like birth u know bc reincarnation also its the basis of Chloe and becas relationship or something
> 
> hella slowburn js but its totally worth it.

She stood peering over the edge of the cloud, still holding her breath in anticipation. She stepped back in hesitation for what felt like the hundredth time, but the soft voice that had been with her the whole time overwhelmed her and she knew her decision was clear. She leaned forward, letting her chest be the point of her weight, and dropped.

She was everywhere. 

She was every salty, misted breeze that passed under slabs of rock staggering into the ocean. She was every drop of sweet nectar that passed down a hummingbird’s tiny vibrating throat. She jumped and soared through the atmosphere, catching in the wind and quickly slipping out of view over and over as she felt every spark ascend towards the darkness of overhanging branches in a thick, dark forest. She was every elated yell of pure joy, every unedited and genuine laugh, every deep and racking sob of hopelessness. She shared every desperate, torturous thought of guilt, every static pang of anxiety. She heard shrieks of pain and fear, she heard hundreds of voices singing together with all the emotion they could muster, and she heard the quiet and hidden weeping of loved ones from another room.

She felt the vibrations in her feet as bells tolled for newly-weds and she felt their heart pumping rapidly in their chests at the prospect of eternal life with the ones they loved. She felt the heat of scalding water as someone begrudgingly stepped into a shower at 5:00am, and she felt the tingling and raw sensation in every palm from clapping so rapidly and loudly for the performance of something that had just changed lives. She felt the racking hunger of someone who had not eaten in days, and the heartwarming reward of appreciation from something given.

She felt everything, everyone, everywhere, but she heard and saw absolutely nothing. She could feel no containment of a living body, and, although she felt every emotion, her mind was blank of personal state. She did not remember, and she had not the want to. She had not held knowledge of time or how it passed and the feelings that she witnessed and experienced could have been observed as lasting neither millenniums or milliseconds. The life of every human channeled violently through her consciousness, but she was not awake, neither was she asleep.

But then,

It was all gone. And all that Beca perceived of anything was cold, wet dew and rough, pungent grass against her cheek.

-

Chloe slowly brought in another aching breath and let it out heavily for what felt like the thousandth time that night. She walked over to the window but the sky was a dark colorless cloud, blocking her view of the stars. She wished she could see the moon and she sighed again, regretting it as her jaw and lungs complained from the aching sensation of being overtired and sleep deprived. She twisted the plastic handle of the wooden frame and pushed outward until she could feel the brisk and refreshing draft of cold air wash over her. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, this time, she hoped, for the last sigh that night, and held the cool in her lungs for a count of seven, letting it out as slowly as she could. She savored the temperature difference on her flushed and heated cheeks and listened to the distant white noise of the city stretching beyond. 

She considered that a walk would be the worst thing to do in her situation, and the thought of leaving her house for the first time in three days for an occasion other than work made her frown to herself, but she soon found her hands tugging on a pair of boots and a rain jacket over her pajamas. 

Her sleep schedule had become less of a schedule and more of a caffeine-dependent, never-ending cycle of work, eat, dreamless sleep, check her phone, sleep, work, and so on. She had actual little work to do across a deceivingly long amount of time, and for the most part they were simple tasks, but Chloe found it near impossible to force herself to work longer than a couple quarter hours at a time, quickly losing motivation and switching at dangerously close intervals of working and staring at her phone. Her little office job was dull and unfulfilling, but she forced herself to put away those thoughts and not take for granted her not-very-well-earned-salary. Her PhD in biomechanics seemed but a distant memory of possession, and she had yet to use a majority of the material she had worked so diligently and painfully to acquire.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk of outskirt-New York city and locked her door, she felt herself dreading the next day and the following weeks of the same routine she had been slowly falling into. She placed her headphones over her already cold ears and played shuffle on an album she hadn’t listened to in a few years. She turned down the volume significantly, as although her neighborhood was relatively quiet and restful, she had an unease when out at night. As the soft rhythm and peaceful melody filled her ears she felt a wave of a distinct set emotions she had not been accustomed to for a few weeks; longing, loneliness, and a sort of grievance she could not put her finger on. It took her aback, but she allowed the emotions to expand and radiate through her mind, welcoming the prodding of new and deeper thoughts than she had allowed herself in her recent routine.

Chloe was naturally a very friendly and outgoing human, the kind who would strike up conversation at most given opportunities, but she did not necessarily consider herself in want of returned validation in a closer and more intimate relationship. She spoke often to her colleagues at work, and she attended their infrequent events, but she could not recall sharing a close friendship with anyone for the past three years after graduating. She kept an online familiarity with the girls from her college a capella singing group, but she had not seen them personally since their only reunion a year ago. She had really enjoyed the event, but it had made her melancholy for the past and the carefree nature of attending school and singing with her friends. She had her family that she talked to often and visited some weekends and most vacations, and she sometimes ate lunch with the barista in the Starbucks at her office. Sometimes she did ponder, however, if her lack of closer relationships maybe factored in her recent slump of unfulfillment. Maybe she was feeling it now, she thought. Was this loneliness that was disturbing her mental plain, or something else? Whatever it was she continued embracing it, relishing the refreshing and self pitying relief it gave.

She stopped walking abruptly when she realized that she has been so deep in reflection that she had not been concentrating on the path. Her aimlessness had led her to a road she wasn’t familiar walking and after a moment of hesitation, she continued forward. She used google maps infrequently, however she was confident that it would not be hard to find her way home later using her phone. The road she had taken had turned narrower and become dirt and rocks. To right of her was a high wall of brambles and behind, a tiny, unseen trickling stream. To her left, there were more high brambles, but beyond that she couldn’t see or hear anything. After a few minutes of the path veering gradually right, the brush slowly shortened and eventually reached low enough for her to look upon a large, untamed field. There were no nearby light sources, but what she could make out from the dim light of the overcast sky, there was a very thin sheet of slow-dancing mist, and what seemed like a very old rusty tractor on the north-east corner. She continued walking as she looked out, and eventually the path finished its right-side veer. She began to make out a small dark figure walking at a regular pace about fifty feet ahead of her and her over-active imagination triggered a growing feeling of anxiety fueled by the dark and lack of other viewable life-forms. In the spur of the moment she compulsively called out a greeting to the stranger, hoping that a short interaction would calm her hyperactive mental state.

“Hello!” She realized that the greeting would seem a little awkward if carried out so far apart so she jogged a little to catch up with the other strolling (she hoped) neighbor. The person turned, clearly stunned by the sudden shout but seemed to relax realizing the approach was not aggressive. It waved and turned back forward until Chloe reached them at a distance of around six feet. She observed the stranger to be a short small framed girl of around her age, maybe younger. Her outfit was odd for the cold weather, she thought ( a pair of sweatpants and a spaghetti strap tank top) but she let it go to focus on her conversation.

“Hi,” The girl’s voice was clear and short. 

“It’s so chilly for this time of year, I don’t even usually come here while on walks. The mist is so spooky!” She turned and smiled at the face next to her to see tears rolling down the girl’s face.

“Yeah. Super spooky,” wavered her voice.


	2. Soon A Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second aksjfhsdf enjoy  
> tw’s: abuse, swearing, depression, mentions of death, anxiety, trauma (motor accident, near death)
> 
> still based on this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPDAYN_GLuI

Very slowly Beca began to gain more and more consciousness, beginning with a sharp tingling in her feet, fingers, and face. She became aware of the thick and muddy grass beneath her stomach that poked skin uncomfortably and dampened her clothes. Her ribs ached from where she guessed she’d fallen on them. She took a breath in and coughed as she accidentally inhaled dirt. 

Attempting to push herself onto her knees, she brought her palms to her side and pressed upwards firmly, elbows and wrists smarting under her weight. Her head throbbed as she parted her eyelids but she forced herself to leave them open to adjust to the light and observe her surroundings. As she scanned the empty field, she struggled to remember how she gotten there. Unsure of how much time had passed while she had been unconscious, she reached into her pocket for her phone. When it wasn’t there her movements became more frantic, running her palms over the wet terf and blinking rapidly to attempt to clear her fuzzed vision in the dark. Then suddenly she realized that she didn’t even own a phone, and memories flooded her brain like rain after weeks of humid days and packed overcast skies.

 

Beca and Chloe’s relationship had been the at the forefront of both of their existences ever since they first met. They had often teased that Beca’s sophomore (Chloe’s senior) year of high school was the year they both properly became people. That statement was, for a plethora of reasons, relatively metaphorically true; It was the year when Beca’s mother passed away, and her father had left her because the grief had been to much to handle. Her mental health had spiraled, and she became closed off and for the most part unresponsive. Chloe had relocated all the way across the country from her home in Seattle, and had never really shared solid friendship with anyone. She also suffered abuse from her parents for being openly bisexual. As Beca and Chloe grew closer, their relationship became the most fundamental part of their lives. They became so intertwined that absence of the other became like a vitamin deficiency, or a sinkhole in a busy road in need of immediate filling. Least to say they were agreeably the oddest and closest couple of friends to anyone who met them.

Chloe’s accident was around a year and a half after the two of them had graduated. She was found eight miles from their home, unconscious on an embankment by the highway after her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Chloe was rushed to the hospital, but by the time they had arrived at the ER, it was too late. She had been hanging on by an already worn thread. Beca went into extreme shock. She spent the most terrifying four hours of her life praying to every higher power she had never thought to believe in until that moment, pleading that somehow she could take Chloe’s place and that they could take her instead.

Curiously enough, her requests were immediately taken into effect. Apparently, Beca Mitchel was an exception to the laws of prayer in most religions.

Beca’s memory after her prayers were different, just as clear as her memories beforehand but oddly as if what she experienced after that moment lasted several years longer than it should have. She remembered stepping outside the hospital, and then the sudden gap of black. She woke in front of a giant grey building and after ascending the huge marble steps, she’d walked down the alpine-ceilinged hall lined with black and white tiled flooring and rows of flanking dark wooden desks.

She remembered chuckling softly to herself upon thinking of how it had looked like the magical bank from Harry Potter, only without the goblins or flying papers. Sat at the tallest desk at the end of the hall she’d assumed was the head guardian angel. He explained everything about her trade for Chloe’s life and about the payment for her actions by becoming a guardian angel for an infinitude in the Higher City, the city’s given name. It was not in heaven exactly, but certainly above earth. He told her that mention of any higher power was forbidden and punishable by a very long time in confinement and that no angel below his station knew, or would know of who or what governed life itself.

He had also broken to her the necessity for the erasure of Chloe’s memories of their friendship and lives together. Every memory after that moment was recalled to be more like a hell than a heaven.

Immediately after her introduction to the fact of her new eternity as a magical being she had previously assumed to be fictitious came months and months of guardian training and the pining and the anguish for endless, horrible nights on end. Oh, those nights, when she had been unable to sleep, distracting herself from the grief by plotting any conceivable way she could see Chloe for one last time. Whoever had agreed to let her trade places clearly hadn’t anticipated Beca’s determination to reunite herself with her best friend by any means considerably possible. Trust and friendship among the other angels she came in contact with was extremely rare, frankly nonexistent. She relied on no one but herself to pull through day after day of impossible exercises and painfully lengthy lessons.

When came the end of training and everyone’s human assignment, she had been appointed to station herself in Siberia to guard a local scientologist. Beca’s nights of mostly fruitless planning finally came to fruition as she obdurately broke into the human-assignment database (with ease; the process had oddly reminded her of using Garage Band, only with thin hovering bronze bars and colored beads instead of on-screen controls. There had still been sound waves though) and changed, by hand, her human assignment to guard Chloe. While everyone had been in place to be dropped to earth, she had escaped unseen to the edge of the city to the closest region she could find in Chloe’s vicinity. And now she was here. In this field. This freezing, wet, scary-ass field.

 

Beca wasn’t even sure if she was in the right state. She didn’t recognize anything about her location or surroundings and her plans had only come this far. She had simply assumed that somehow Chloe would find her shortly after her fall to earth, to welcome her into her home to nurture her back to health, and everything would return to the state it had been before all of this mess. Cursing herself for not planning ahead more, her anxiety began to spike and she forced herself to count as she breathed. Why had she thought that simply jumping out of heaven would be the best idea? She had no belongings, no clothes, nowhere to sleep, and worst of all,

no money.

She shakily stood and decided that the best thing to do right now would be to walk off the pins and needles in her legs and to scout out the area. She had also read somewhere that exercise stimulated the brain. Small steps Beca, small steps, She chanted to herself while she stretched her fingers and cracked her neck and back. As she checked her body for more serious injuries or broken bones, she realized that the clothes she was wearing were her own from the night she died (Left earth? How would someone describe this situation?) and she groaned in annoyance at her past-self. Why didn’t you at least go out with style, moron? You planned your retirement to the most ridiculous detail but you couldn’t even die in a flow-y white dress or something? She was still damp from the grass and she was only wearing socks, no shoes. Her outfit from training had been simple white overalls and a grey, soft knit sort-of sweater. Everyone wore a variation of the same outfit, plus one pair of shoes of their choice (Beca had picked red sweade pumas because she had seen Blake Lively wearing a pair once.) Now she was beginning to miss those shoes. The only reason, she thought, that would have made simply following the rules a better choice of actions.

As she trudged her way around the perimeter of the field, she searched for signs of life. She heard far-off cars and airplanes overhead and the path she had been walking was well-trodden and relatively flat. She spotted the glimmer of some distant lights, and decided that once she had relaxed her muscles and figured out some mode of transportation to get there, she would make her way in that direction. And then she thought better of it and realized that sleeping in one of the bushes would probably be safest. And easiest. With the least walking. And effort.

 

Wherever Chloe had gone, Beca followed. After a lot of convincing on Chloe’s part, together they joined an all girls a capella group at their university, where they became properly close with other people for the first time in their lives besides each other. Chloe had stayed two extra years in college, telling everyone the reason was that she could not bare to leave the group, but really the majority of her motivation came from the wish to see Beca through her junior and senior year, and then graduate with her. Beca had often come to family gatherings and holidays with Chloe, and vice versa with to visit Beca’s removed family, often in other parts of the world. Chloe often put on a show of flirting with Beca for laughs and it was a running joke to make euphemisms of any slip of the tongue that could possibly be taken out of context. Friends joked that they were so close anyone would guess they were married, and they would laugh it off or play along, jesting to boast engagement rings, or play fake surprise proposals.

But the matter of it was that Beca secretly abhorred these fake shows of tease, romance and marriage. Because ever since her first year of college, she’d had much deeper respect and care for Chloe.  
There was no need for her to ask or talk about the subject. Beca had known since the beginning of her feelings for her that Chloe would never feel the same way, and so she had absolved to ride it out until she simply did not feel anything other than close platonic intimacy for her. In spite of all her efforts, seven years later she felt exactly the same, if not stronger than before, and it was miserable.

Eventually Beca neared the halfway mark of her third lap. Her anxiety had dwindled little, though her legs were mostly returned to a more natural and pin-free state. She was still shivering from the cold, rubbing her arms and occasionally stamping her feet but achieving very little warmth from any of it. She had given up on her socks halfway through the first lap. I can’t believe I went through years of stupid training and they didn’t even teach us how to fly! Isn’t that the whole point of angels? That they have wings?! She knew the answer to her own question but still resented it. It was true, only higher level angels like the guardian trainers and the traditional angels spoke of in Texts and human accounts had wings. You have to have gone through several experiences so great that those above everything granted you the power of flight and wisdom like that of Gabriel.

The deep and rather eerie quiet of the place was what she’d been strongly accustomed to since she’d woken up, so when someone behind her shouted loudly in her direction, she nearly sprinted into the bushes to her right. But she glanced behind her and saw the form of a woman waving and walking idly, and she was set at a tiny bit more ease and waved back apprehensively. Shit, Becs what’re you gonna do now, you look like a maniac. Dude, you’re not even wearing shoes. Just play it cool, act hostile and moody, the regular. It’s probably too dark to even see my clothes anyway, right? She made a brief attempt to brush off some of the dirt and grass still on her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair a few times.

Rapid footsteps approached from behind her and suddenly the girl had caught up to walk alongside her. Beca sighed quietly in annoyance and scanned her mind for an explanation as to why she was out this late and wearing the bare minimum and no shoes in a 30°(F) field.

She turned to look at the girls face and had to promptly hold herself back from shouting or even remotely outwardly responding to what she saw. Even in the gloomy darkness, the shiny doe-eyed look of the girl next to her was painfully unmistakable. Beca had not planned or expected herself to react so violently as she did when she saw this face again.

“Hi.” She controlled her voice to the best of her ability, but the lack of recognition in the girl’s next statements and the sudden realization of her stupidity in mistakenly romanticizing and simplifying the entire situation around only her own desires was so painful that Beca doubted she could hold back tears. The sight of Chloe Beale after months, years, of grieving was just too much. She did try, but they simply came, silently streaming down her cheeks, one after the other.

“It’s so chilly for this time of year, I don’t usually even come here while on walks. The mist is so spooky!”

Beca realized it was her turn to speak. She saw Chloe turn to look at her from her peripheral view and realized it was to late to do anything about her tears so she struggled to keep her voice even as she replied.

“yeah. Super spooky.”


	3. Draw The Oceans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok hello if you can’t tell I’ve been trying really hard to write different pov’s in styles closer to how I think the characters think idk we’ll see how it goes ::,,))) ps. if someone wants to make me a fic cover I will love you forever and ever I would do it myself but I can’t edit for S H I T :// woohoo what a ride this is gonna be I really hope y’all keep reading !!

Chloe stopped in her tracks and stepped backwards at the sight of such distress on the girl’s face. 

“Oh my God, I’m totally invading your privacy! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” The girl had stopped as well and after a second of Chloe standing back with her hand over her mouth she reached forward and touched her back gently. Hoping she could add at least a small amount of positive energy into the situation, she quickly added “…Although, um, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can also stay with you if you just need to vent to someone who isn’t gonna judge you and who you’ll probably never see again- if thats what you need. Just let me know okay? It’s kind of my thing to go out of my way to make people feel better.” She smiled and made the kind of eye contact that she hoped would give off the most telepathically generous vibes.

The girl stared at Chloe, taken aback but still in consideration. A small split in the cover overhead had opened up briefly to illuminate the pair of them and Chloe saw her face for the first time. Her lips were sucked in and her eyes spilled shimmering streams down her cheeks . “I’m fine. Really. Thank you. I um…It’s…it’s complicated. It’s Really complicated.” Her voice broke on the word ‘really’ and her quaking hands passed to her face to rub at her eyes. Chloe begrudgingly let her do this contrary to her instincts of taking the girl’s wrists away and hugging her- she didn’t want to violate this stranger’s privacy more than she already had. She waited patiently for the girl to think about the situation while she kept her hand on her shoulder to stabilize her.

-

Beca’s stomach churned and she chewed her lip as she weighed her options. The three best responses that sprung to mind were not the most reliable ideas she’d ever had, but they would be better in the long run than simply to lay on the ground and give in to a breakdown.   
Firstly, she could reject Chloe’s help and give no explanation for her current state, but ask her to keep walking with her ‘for comfort’ to hopefully form some kind of closer connection which she would use later to see her again.   
Secondly, she could, as fast as possible, concoct a story similar to the truth but somehow without mentioning the factors of reincarnation, the confirmation of some kind of legitimate higher power’s existence (or at least a medium power), that Chloe was supposed to die almost two years ago, and the matter that Beca was a fucking guardian angel.  
Or thirdly she could just tell Chloe the truth. The last one was, she admitted, both the worst idea and the most tempting one. No. She doesn’t know you, remember, she’s going to think you’re high or something. (her brain did feel very unprepared for this sudden mental gymnastics, she thought.) Her heart physically ached with want to hold Chloe tightly and sob into her shoulder about how she thought she’d never see her again and how exhausted and lonely she felt. She sighed heavily and tried her best to smile without letting her emotions contort her face (harder than she expected) and prepared herself to express the second biggest lie she had ever told to her best friend.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. Let’s keep walking…um, I’ll try not to bore you too much.” 

“No, no, please! Onward!”

Beca frowned as the comforting warmth in her shoulder from Chloe’s hand left her shoulder blade.

 

“Well…basically, a few years ago I had this friend. We…cared about each other a lot. We’d been really close since high school and we’d gone through some really tough shit together. She was there for me and I did my best to do the same. We were kinda like each other’s moms in a sense.” Beca chuckled softly. “Then about a year and a half ago…she…my friend was in an accident. She was hit on the highway by a drunk driver and she wasn’t found till a few hours after. When she was, they did their best but…um…she didn’t make it.” Beca paused, to both protect herself from crying again and also to stall for a second to think about what could possibly replace the concept of swapping places with the dying girl you love and returning to earth a guardian angel. 

“I was um…My mental health plummeted and I was in a really bad place for a very long time…I developed a bad drug and alcohol problem. I did some horrid, inexcusable things to a lot of people I cared very deeply for, which left me basically without my friends and family…But starting two months ago, I decided to get better for her. I’ve been sober for um…a few months. I was in rehab in Massachusetts up until a few days ago and I came back to New York for the first time in over a year today…honestly, I don’t know why. Closure? A message from her?! Maybe I needed to see you- her. Sorry, I’m just really disoriented. This is the first time I’ve been in the neighborhood where we used to live since…” Her tears were back, this time as equally fake as they were real. “I reached out to a few friends but no one will talk to me. I’m just filled with so much remorse. Like, immeasurable guilt. You have no idea. Fuck, I don’t even have a place to stay, I’ve only been here a few hours.” She hunched her back and hid her face in her hands taking deep shaky breaths. She did pride herself on her woven web, however, especially the bit about her friends.

Chloe had been quiet and patient with Beca through her whole story and finally when Beca had made it clear she had finished Chloe placed her hand on her shoulder again. She then spoke such soft and warm words that made Beca’s stomach tighten even further with emotion and nerves.

“Wow. I am so sorry. You’ve gone through so much, I really appreciate you sharing your story with me. You are such a strong human being and…I really admire how far you’ve come after everything you went through. Can I…Do you want a hug? I don’t want to invade your personal space.” Chloe’s voice grew somehow even kinder as she said those last few words and Beca nodded, not wanting to seem too eager. 

Chloe enveloped Beca in her arms and tightly held her to her chest as Beca’s sobs became involuntary and incessant. She had not felt so many emotions at once since…well, since as long as she could remember. Her knees were week and she almost clung to Chloe to stay upright. Chloe rubbed slow circles on her back and murmured comforting words to her.

“Shh. It’s okay, everything’s gonna be fine. You’re okay.”

Her familiar soft and sweet scent was painful with lost memories and Beca fit just so in Chloe’s arms as if Chloe had retained the experience of hugging her even through Chloe’s memory-obliteration. 

Finally after three or four minutes, Beca’s sobs became sniffs and she staggered gingerly away from her, afraid of making Chloe uncomfortable.

-

Chloe had such a curiously strong impulse to take this stranger in and help her restart her life and make amends with her friends. She knew how potentially dangerous it would be to let someone she had only spoken to for about fifteen minutes into her home but the girl’s story was pretty believable and she had a lot of spare time. The nearest police station was less than a four minute walk away from her home and she was confident that she was safe and unafraid to call if anything happened. She was surprised at herself for how much pity she harbored for this girl, but for some reason her tale struck an empathetic chord that Chloe had not heard before and was unaware had even existed. As their embrace broke, her impulsive thoughts got the better of her and she acted quickly as to not change her mind or overthink.

“Okay, you know what, hear me through. How would you feel if you came back to my house and you can sleep on my couch for the night? I have to stay up anyways. I can drive you in to the city on my way to work tomorrow and you can look at places to stay or job ops, if thats what you need. I have a friend at a café that could use an extra hand! Do you have anyone in New York you can talk to or trust?”

Even though it was still dark out, Chloe could tell the girl was stunned by her sudden advance. 

“I…uh…thank you, that’s really generous of you. I…guess? Wow, I feel like such a creep right now, I promise I’m telling the truth. If that’s really okay with you, I would so appreciate the help. Also, no I don’t think so. I mean, there might be someone, but I’m gonna need a couple days to figure out how to even get in touch with her.” She combed her hands through her knotted hair in a fluster. 

“Yeah dude of course! Here, come with me. Do you have any bags or anything?”

“Um, no. Most of my stuff is in a storage unit in town. I didn’t really bring anything with me when I left. Thank you so much, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” Chloe found that odd and questions of how the girl had even come from New York without possessions filled her mind but she pushed them aside.

Half an hour later of Chloe walking the weak girl back to her house in a comfortable silence (Chloe wanted to overwhelm her as little as possible with questions or conversation in her fragile state), they came through the door and she went to the tap to get the girl some water. When she checked the little yellow clock above her sink she was surprised to see that she’d been out for almost two hours and it was nearly 1:00 in the morning. The lights were dim coming from her living room but just bright enough for her to finally see what the girl looked like as she handed her the glass. She was small and frail with long, mousy brown hair and deep set blue eyes that were again cascading tears down pale blanched cheeks. Her minimal tank top and sweatpants were a little grassy but otherwise free of stain or dirt, Chloe supposed she had sat or perhaps lain in the field earlier. When she looked down, Chloe realized the girl’s feet were bare and bruised but said nothing.

“Drink all of that. The bathroom and shower is just through that door behind you. I’m going to run upstairs get you some spare clothes, and sheets for the couch, will you be alright down here?” The girl gave a small nod as she chugged down the water with huge gulps.

-

Beca shut the bathroom door behind her and immediately slid to the floor, breathing rapidly with her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. 

The house was exactly as she had left it. All her belongings were gone, but most everything else was the same. Same couch, same photographs covering the stairwell, the same colored walls. Even the odd yellow clock Aubrey had bought them as a housewarming gift was still in the kitchen. She managed to push herself upright and turned on the faucet to the temperature she had grown so familiar using. She leant over the sink and forced herself to breathe evenly as steam rose to the ceiling and filled her lungs. 

She was here though and everything was going to smoothly. Everything that she had planned (or rather hoped without depth or consideration) was happening! She was home with Chloe and Chloe was taking care of her! She felt the corners of her mouth twitch as her thoughts grew more hopeful.

An instantly recognizable sensation reached her fingertips and she was no-longer concentrating on her good fortune. Her palms grew hot and it quickly spread to her wrists. Shit. 

Her hands were glowing bright white and her veins were accentuated by visible electric currents racing down her arms under her skin. This isn’t supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to glow on earth, it’s literally impossible. Her heart beat faster. This was a regular behavior in the Higher City. It was completely random with no rhyme or reason and it was also another phenomenon that the head-angels refused to digress. But they had strictly told everyone that it wasn’t supposed to happen after they had left to earth. It’s gotta be a glitch or a kink in the system when I changed my fucking assignment. You bitch! Beca Mitchel, you have fucked up so royally. The light had spread down almost the entire length of her arms and she felt her knees grow hot as it climbed up her legs as well. She threw off her clothes and rushed to the shower, desperate that the water could somehow stifle the course of electricity running through her bloodstream. It did nothing but scald her skin and she yelped in shock.

five or six seconds later a knock came to the door which startled Beca to jump.

“Everything okay in there?” 

“Yeah, um, I turned it too hot haha,” She laughed nervously.

“Okay, I’ll leave these clothes by the door. There’s fresh towels under the sink.”

“Great, thank you!” She groaned quietly in frustration, but when she looked back down to her hands, they were back to her own pale skin. She sighed heavily in relief. Usually it lasted longer; around five to ten minutes, but she guessed because it was only a glitch it would affect her to a much lesser extent.

Twenty minutes later she sat on her made-up bed in Chloe’s pajamas waiting for Chloe to bring her tea she hadn’t asked for. She had been considering maybe telling Chloe the truth after all. The level of gullibility involved with people she cared about was something that the two of them had been working to correct before everything was shoved at them left and right. Beca had begun to worry that one day in the future she would not be immediately accessible to force Chloe to see every angle of the situation and to hold herself over others when the circumstances required. A significantly large piece of Beca’s mind suggested that Chloe would swallow the whole story with complete belief and acceptance. However Beca had not seen her in so long and she had romanticized their friendship so laboriously during their time apart. There was a chance that the more stripped down version of Chloe that Beca remembered was not as surface-level innocent and credulous as was reality. There was too much of a risk that Beca’s tale would turn her out onto the streets and she would definitely never see Chloe again after that. She was woken from her musings by a warm mug of lavender-smelling steam being gently placed between her palms.

“Here you are! It’s hot, careful. So, I’m leaving around 8:00 tomorrow and I’ll drop you off wherever you need to be?”

“Um, yeah that would be great. Thank you so much for all of this. You have no idea how much it means to me.” No really, she had No. Idea. 

“Yeah, no worries! I totally got your back! Um, I’ll just be right here in the kitchen finishing up some work. If you need anything just holler.” Chloe patted Bec’s leg affectionately and stood, still facing Beca. Her eyes suddenly somehow grew wider than her already enormous size and she exclaimed. “Wait, oh my God! I’m such an awful person! I don’t even know your name! And you don’t know mine! What the hell is your name, dude?” Beca laughed and looked down sheepishly.

“It’s Beca. Mitchel.”

“Well, nice to meet you Beca, my name is Chloe. I think we’re gonna be really fast friends.”


	4. Make a Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: sorry this chapter took so long kids! If anyone cares, I was in New York with my chorus performing at carnegie hall, also if Anna wasn't there at the performance imma b hella pissed bc not only does she a) have an obligation to attend acapella and Choral performances, now that she holds the face of acapella in her palm, but she was also b) in NY at the time and I c) tweeted her twice.

Chloe had sat awake all night at her kitchen counter where she had a clear view of the living room and the small sleeping girl on her couch. Paranoia had led to the performance of unnecessary extra work while she waited with a small bath of coffee and her laptop, constantly visually and audibly aware of the situation if anything arose. 

Certain that she would be able to leave her job four or five hours early the next day because of the extra labor, she thought of what the girl- Beca, would do after carrying out the medial plans Chloe had made. They were, now that she thought about it, of a very impractical a nature and it had only just dawned on her how unrealistic they were. Granted, Beca seemed like she wasn’t completely hopeless. Although Chloe was not sure if she believed everything about her story, she knew that the girl wasn’t without resources; She said she’d lived in the city beforehand and she had to have paid some money to travel all the way from Massachusetts to New York.  
She considered maybe meeting her again after work since she would be getting off so early, but she was still wary of the entire situation and how rash she was being. The thought that she had so expeditiously befriended this stranger she had found wandering alone in the middle of a field with no shoes or clothes and a long and kind-of gap-filled story was making her brain hurt.

After an extremely uneventful evening, the early hours of the morning dawned and Chloe threw together a small breakfast for herself and began to prepare for the day ahead. She found an old Barden school-sweatshirt in her closet to give to Beca and a pair of trainers she no longer wore, assuming for the time being that the girl truly didn’t own a pair of shoes.

After a brief interval of hesitation, she gently nudged her sleeping guest and murmured a cheerful greeting upon the girl’s stirring. Beca dressed in her newly-cleaned clothes, ate the cereal Chloe gave her in groggy gratitude and at the turn of the hour just as Chloe had promised, they left for the city in her red 90′s Nissan pulsar. 

 

The conversation shared hitherto had been sparse and for the most part admitted on Chloe’s initiative, but after ten still fairly uneasy minutes of driving, Chloe found herself want of a more social reciprocity from her apologetic and rather acquiescent companion. 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Chloe glanced at the girl who was gloomily hunched in on herself, eyes flickering over the passing architectural and natural parade of suburban New York.

“Sure.” She shifted and smiled faintly in response. 

“Do you care what I play? I have a Sia CD in the glovebox there.” Beca dutifully withdrew the black and white cased CD and handed it to Chloe. 

“I didn’t even know they made CD’s anymore.” The jesting comment was thrown quietly but it had not gone unnoticed. Chloe chuckled as she placed the disc in the thin slot of the dashboard.

“She’s a comedian! Well, well, well, a real spokesperson for our generation, aren’t you? Don’t appliance-shame me, this car is too old for an AUX chord.”

“If you say so, grandma.” Chloe was enjoying this new-found charismatic confidence of the stranger she had only met a few hours ago. As the first song began she hummed along to the all-too familiar melody. She had maintained a sort of comfortable fondness for the artist, as her acapella group had sung a few of her songs in concert when they had been together and listening to the album made her feel melancholic, but peaceful. Even though she didn’t really keep in touch with the girls, she still held them all very dear and her sense of pride for everything they had done together was still running strong. 

“Do you sing?” Beca’s voice was soft and monotone as though she didn’t want to ask the question.

“Funny you should ask, I used to sing in college. I mean, I don’t make a habit of boasting, but our acapella group performed at the Kennedy center with one of the songs on this album!” She smiled through recollection.

“Your A Capella group? oh my God, you are old…that’s nice though, I guess. Congrats.”

“See? I’m a cool grandma.” She increased the volume on the controls and instinctively jumped into the harmonies. The conversation dwindled yet again and she struggled desperately for another topic of conversation.

“Do you?” In Chloe’s side-view she saw Beca’s head turn toward her in confusion.

“Huh?” 

“Do you sing?” 

“Oh. Haha. In your dreams.” Her laugh resonated in a somewhat forced manner as if the subject had affected a sore spot and she became sullen within seconds, returning to the window. This unusual air made Chloe question whether Beca’s statement was true, and if it was perhaps more of a self-deprecating comment. After the first song ended and the second followed suit, Chloe’s doubts were confirmed (admittedly to her delight) as Beca quietly began humming the melody underneath Chloe’s higher intervals. A few words through she softly joined in with the lyrics and Chloe was taken aback by a pleasing (if a little rough) voice, harmonizing in absolute-pitch beneath her own. Their tones blended well, and though Beca was singing softly and with little motivation, their phrasing synced well, Chloe thought. They sung past the chorus and as the bridge began, she addressed Beca with amusement and determination.

“You Can sing! You liar!” 

“Dude, shut up. Just ‘cause I do doesn’t mean I can.”

“What the hell? Your voice is great! You know this song so well, it’s actually almost like you’re singing the arrangement we did for the president.” Chloe smiled when she observed she was making Beca blush. 

“Wait, you’re in the Bellas? Wow. I um…I saw that performance online actually. It’s, like, viral, you know that, right? Also, ever since that David Guetta song I’ve been really into Sia.”

“Oh, God, yeah of course I know, that perforamance almost got us disqualified. Wait, you know David Guetta?”

“Dude, I fucking love David Guetta. Titanium?”

“What a a BOP! Are you kidding me?” 

The last chorus came in and the two girls sang and with a litte more vitality than they had been doing so, especially Chloe. As the last chorus faded into the quiet between songs, Chloe was nearing the end of the highway and the toll booths signifying the entrance to the city could be seen on the horizon.

“So, where are you thinking I should drop you off?” 

“Oh, um…I guess the bank on 15th, if that’s cool? I can make my way from there.”

“Gotcha.” Chloe was unsure how to approach the next subject. 

“You know...if you need anything I’ll be there to help you get back on your feet? You can spend another few nights at my place until you have somewhere to go. Also, I can speak to that friend about the job, I think she’d really appreciate someone else at her café and I’m sure it pays well. Now that I think about it, she’s just around the corner from 15th, I’m going to be early for work anyways, I could introduce you two. If it’s too soon to think about work I totally understand.”

“No, yeah, um, wow, that’s so kind of you. I…I’ve already taken so much of your hospitality, um, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, you must think I’m so awful. I owe you so much, dude. If it’s not, like, encumbering you that would be so great.”

“Really, it’s nothing I swear. You’re a friend now, I’m here to help. Her name is Flo, she was in the Bella’s with me! She’s super sweet, I promise.”

-

Beca passionately inhaled the perfect euphoria of stepping inside Flo’s coffee shop. She had spent so much time in this building her last year on earth. Nothing had changed except for the fact her favorite latte was not on the large chalkboard Manu above the counter, which she didn’t blame Flo for; she doubted very many people ever ordered a sage latte. This recollection made her again dismal when she was reminded that not only Chloe had been made to forget her existence, but also the entire earth and all those she held near. 

The café was small but well and minimally decorated. The floor dipped into the ground as opposed to a raised platform and the ceiling was low with old, dark beams stretched across, between white plaster and strings of tiny warm white string-lights. The counter in the corner was short and littered with large glass bell-jars filled with assortment upon assortment of scones, muffins, donuts, cakes, and cookies. 

The tables surrounding Beca and Chloe were packed with well-dressed people sipping drinks and typing loudly on their laptops and as the two girls gingerly navigated through the labyrinth of perfumed hipsters. Beca finally spotted a very frazzled and frayed variation of her tiny happy friend busily flitting around the tiny kitchen and she smiled in excitement. They finally reached the counter and when Chloe shouted her name Flo turned with a disgruntled looked which quick turned to ease when she saw who had called. 

 

In Beca’s timeline, the Bella’s intimacy had grown only stronger after their acapella careers had come to a close. Most of them had lived together in some variations of two or three, and they met up often and spoke regularly. Beca had dwelled constantly while she was in the Higher City on whether, if in the universe that had come of Beca’s death, the Bellas had still stayed close or simply grown apart. She had immediately noticed when she met Chloe, how much more subdued and almost depressed the inner layer of personality had been. The thought of living a life away from some of the most amazing people she had ever met, and missing what had been such a huge part of her day-to-day was gut-wrenching to consider, she felt deeply guilty and sympathetic for Chloe.

As she watched the two of them converse, she noted that they still clearly maintained a pretty cordial, if a little formal, relationship with one another. They greeted each other familiarly and then Chloe pulled Beca forward for an introduction. 

“So, Flo, This is Beca! she just got here from Massachusetts and she’s looking for a job, I know you’re a little strapped here so I thought you could maybe use an extra hand and interview her? Or whatever you do when you hire someone in this industry?” Chloe passed her arm around Beca’s shoulders warmly.  
Flo sighed and reached out her arms to Chloe in a gesture of gratitude. “You are my savior, Chloe. Work has been like an old man throwing dead-weights into basketball hoops. All these rich people care about is what kind of non-dairy, dairy product they ask for and if you do not get it right they ask for your manager. Which is me. Obviously. I would hire you right now if I had the time. I’m closing the register in fifteen minutes if you want to wait in the back? I’ll be right there.” She gestured to a small hallway in the back of the room and turned to return to her work. Chloe faced Beca with a grin. 

“So, I’m gonna leave you here, but here’s my number. Don’t hesitate if you need anything at all. I work about fifteen minutes walk from here. Text me, keep me updated. I’ll keep in touch, okay?” Chloe wrapped her arms around Beca and hugged her tightly. Beca was unsure how she could respond appropriately other than simply apologizing and thanking her profusely. So, that’s what she did, and then Chloe was gone, out the door and around the corner, bright red hair fluttering behind her in the bitter city wind. 

 

She had just made herself comfortable on the couch when Flo breezed through the door, still in her apron and lightly dusted with flour. Beca knew the moment she stepped in the café what she would have to do and say. She knew that Flo would sympathize and that she could trust her. Flo sat own at a desk adjacent to the couch and brought out a plaque with a few papers Beca assumed were applications, but Beca scooted to the edge of her seat and placed her palm on the wooden surface before Flo could speak.

“Flo, wait, um...just stop for a sec’...how do I do this? Okay, this is going to seem like a very odd request but can I hold your hand, just, for, like, a millisecond?” Flo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she complied hesitantly, reaching her hand to touch Beca’s.

“Um, sure. Do you want some water or something? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah I’m fine, just...give me a second.” Beca took her hand and held it securely. She needed just the right amount of contact. She closed her eyes and within less than a split second, Flo withdrew her hand with a gasp.

“Beca Mitchel?! Bitch ass hoe, what are you doing here?!”


	5. soon the snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I apologize for my atrocious and probably completely improper use of spanish words, it’s literally been nine years since I spoke any of it, and I’m super bad with languages. please correct my many mistakes! also Chrissie has so few lines in any of the movies and all of them are immigration related, (which I didn’t like bc they made it a personality trait which was frankly indelicate especially how everything she said revolved around it- sorry, getting off track im just still angry- she deserved way better) so I had to do so much guessing as to what she’d say in literally any and every situation lol

Beca jumped in shock at the shout of surprise delivered from the stunned face of unwarranted epiphany. She was elated, though, to see the recognition in her old friend’s face. Though there was no need (she had already used around a month’s worth of power to bring back Flo’s memories), she reached for her hand again and tried to make her voice as soft as she could. She could only imagine the frantic brain patterns Flo was probably sending herself through after what Beca had just thrown at her.

“ _Shush_ , quiet. Flo, I need you to calm down, I’ll explain everything in a sec’. How much do you remember?”

“How did you- what just happened- I thought you were- you- CABRÓN, HOW ARE YOU HERE?! But you were-, wait, was that a _curse_? Some kind of _Brujería_? Did you just curse me? Why stop at curses, did you drug me? ARE YOU-” Flo’s hand had been obliviously lent to Beca through her frenzy until she began shouting about about curses and she withdrew it again quickly, eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Flo! Stop! Listen to me! I haven’t cursed you, I need to know how much you remember.” Flo wavered for a moment in uncertainty and then composed herself by breathing in and out heavily.

“Um, I remember- two years ago?- you called me…that Chloe was dying? Or was in an accident? But then you- what did you _do_ , Beca?” her words quickened again. “Chloe is still alive! And you weren’t, but I didn’t remember it! And you are here now! And I remember you! Why didn’t I remember you? And why did you die and Chloe stayed alive?”

“Flo, oh my god, slow down.” Flo restrained herself enough for Beca to tell her everything. Though she probably only spoke for about ten minutes, it felt like the two of them sat there for eons. She resigned herself to a few tearful sniffs at one or two points during her narrative. Flo’s face remained pitiful and sympathetic throughout, with a few comforting _oh no, babe’_ s, and _I’m so sorry, chuchura_ ’s every time Beca interrupted herself for breath. She didn’t tell Flo about her experience the previous night in the bathroom surrounding the matter of her glowing-vein-glitch-stuff. She was too aware of the limits she had already taken in divulging so much and using powers her first day back on earth, and she didn’t want to overburden or stress Flo out any more than she had.

She also didn’t say anything about her tangled and essentially labyrinthine relationship with Chloe. Resting under the assumption that Flo thought Beca returned to earth for _all_  of the Bellas, not solely Chloe (which was true, but only to an extent) was much easier on her mind. What was key at present was maintaining her trust. Also, the thought that everyone had easily read Beca’s feelings for Chloe the whole stretch of the group’s friendship made her stomach churn.

As she ended her account, Beca smiled sheepishly with guilt at seeing Flo without suspicion, only acceptance, belief, and pity.  
_I can’t believe this chick believes I became an angel in place of Chloe’s death, I have magical fucking powers, and I’ve returned to earth to guard her with my life but no one remembers me and all traces of my being have been wiped from the earth so Chloe won’t remember who I am, so what even is the point of my coming back and why do I feel as if this entire four days has been the biggest mistake of my life, or rather death? S_ he snapped out of her inopportune musings when Flo’s hand returned atop Beca’s on the desk where she had thrown it so hastily before.

“Have you talked to anyone else?”

“No. You’re the only one besides Chloe. I don’t think I’m going to tell anyone else or give back anyone’s memories. It’s too risky.”

“I am honored. What a small and not at all sad responsibility,” Flo frowned in sarcasm and Beca continued with another grimace of guilt.

“Also, I don’t know if I’m going to have enough power to do anything like that to anyone else for a while.”

“Wait, I know you have already explained this, but why can’t you just give Chloe’s memories back, like me?”

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping her alive. If she remembers me and that she was supposed to die, the structure holding everything will probably be taken away and then who knows…maybe we’ll both die.”

“…Oh.” She looked down at her desk and shuffled papers around for a few seconds unnecessarily while the stiff air shifted between them.

“Well, what is next?” She stood with a sigh and Beca shrugged. They stood in quiet as the situation settled a little. Beca became aware of the seriousness in the room and she attempted to lighten her face.

“That job still available?” Flo shook her head to clear whatever she must have so deep in thought and her eyes snapped from the floor back up to Beca’s.

“I meeean, I guess so. I have an empty apartment above the shop I was waiting to rent to someone who could afford to live in this maldito city, but you are a friend. I suppose.” Flo looked up at her with a dead face, but her eyes were now sparkling and she was unable to hold up the act and rushed around the desk to hug her.

“Come here you stupid. Of course you can stay. I missed you so much even though I did not remember you. Is that weird?”

“I missed you too, Flo,” Beca beamed into her shoulder.

 

 

Beca tapped her fingers gently along the edge of the marble tabletop as she sat towards the rearward of the café waiting for Flo to close up early. When the tiny gymnast finally ushered her upstairs to the back, she eagerly jumped up and followed a narrow fight of stairs to the upper floor of the basically tiny building. The moment she reached the top, she grinned in delight at a sight that was unimpeachably the quaintest Beca had ever laid her eyes upon.

The place was very small with just enough headspace that Beca would not bump her head if she didn’t jump too high. There were four visible rooms, each with dark blue paneled doors. One tiny bedroom about the size of a walk-in closet with a large bed taking up two thirds of the space was adjacent to a tiny bathroom made entirely of a shower with beryl-colored tiles. There was a slightly more spatial kitchen with a kitchenette, deep sink, and a large skylight made of yellow glass that flooded the room with warm honey-colored light. A lounging room with a rich, deep red velvet couch, a few bookshelves, and a view onto the street below could only be entered through the kitchen and the top of the stairs.

The design was impeccable and Beca was suspended in awe at Flo’s admirable taste.

“Flo, this is beautiful! I had no idea you were such a talented interior designer!”

How she had never been upstairs when she had come to Flo’s café before was beyond her. Maybe this new edition was something only created in the timeline without her.

“Yes, I know. I am very talented.” Beca chuckled and leaned over the window to the street, watching the busy passerby below. This peep into Flo’s life spiked more actively her curiosity of the Bellas and their lives in the situation she had so involuntarily untangled herself from.

“So, um, how are the Bellas? Were you, you know, close? In the version of life without me?”

“Oh my god, the Bellas! I haven’t thought about them yet! We missed so much! I can’t believe- wow. Yes, without you, we kind of split up. We all still live near New York except for Aubrey. She’s somewhere too south for my taste doing a boot camp or something, which I think is the whitest thing you can do after being in an acapella group, honestly. Why would anyone choose to suffer like- anyways, sorry. Me and Chloe stayed close-ish, I guess. We see each other not very often, and only in the café. But the last time I saw the other Bellas was, I think, a year ago? There was a reunion. This is so confusing though, because I have two types of memory. There is life after college without the Bellas which are fake memories, and there is life with the Bellas- and you, which are real memories. And then there’s this past year and a half of…life without you, no?”

“Um, yes? I really don’t know, everything’s so messed up. Which is totally on me, I’m starting to rethink everything now. I should have maybe just stayed in heaven to begin with. I’m probably actively putting everyone in danger. That must be really, really sucky for you now, though.” Beca turned to face Flo again and found her looking into the distance beyond the window.

“No, no, chiquita, don’t think like that. Don’t worry about me, you have bigger pescado to fry.”

“Wait, so, reunion like singing-pentatonix-covers-reunion?”

“Not really. More like drinking-various-alcoholic-beverages-and-complaining-about-the-latest-America’s-got-talent-contestants-reunion.” This made Beca smirk, but her smile dropped as Flo, without warning, rushed to Beca’s side to deposit a firm grip on her shoulders in excitement.

“WAIT. BECA.” Her eyes were sparkling so brightly Beca had to resist the urge to blink rapidly to protect herself from the possibility of blindness.  
“What?!”

“We have to have a reunion! Like, a real song, celebración, cult-level, reunion! We have to sing Dua Lipa’s new album! Did you know she’s been at number one on iTunes, like, nine times? Dude, I missed the Bellas so much and now I remember them for real! Please, please, please?”

“Uh, sure, yeah? I think that would be fun…God, I miss them too. Yes. Let’s do it. ASAP,” Beca returned the gesture, grasping her friend’s shoulders.

“I will call them tonight. Wait, how are you going to be there? They don’t know you, we can’t just have a stranger there! Whatever, we’ll figure that out later. Oh, I am positively supernatant with joy!”

-

Chloe’s head lolled forward again and she shifted to straighten her back in her seat, attempting to motivate herself out of her somnolent state.

Assumptions regarding the absence of her own activity at the office aside, her boss had announced that he would be lightening the load on mid-teer 9th floor workers (where she was) at their office because of the recent growth in so many new, competent employees. Chloe was, of course, happy for the new people, and her wages weren’t much less, it just meant about three hours of work were cut from her in-office time. Her extra work at home the night before meant that the only real in-office labor she was left was waiting patiently as her desk for outside assignments and emails.

Eventually, three hours of endless trips to the tiny canteen all the way across the building had passed and several episodes of reaching the brink of slipping into of an unwanted nap were barely avoided. In a sleepy daze, Chloe finally stood, grabbed her things, and jogged down the stairs (the elevator took much too long, and she needed the exercise) to the first floor desk to announce that she was leaving work early.

Her brain spontaneously led her out the door and back to Flo’s café, and as she entered, she noted the pale pink ‘be right back!’ sign remained on the cash-register. Frowning, she texted Flo a quick message to let her know she was there and that she’d left work early, and sat at a table nearby, resting her head on her hands and closing her eyes.

 

“Chloe, Chloe, esé, wake up. Bro, come on.” Chloe bolted upright in her seat to find a small figure above her with a hand on her shoulder. She blinked rapidly and her eyes adjusted to the bright mid-day light shining through the cafe window.

“Ugh, how long have I been out?” She ran her hands over her face and cracked her neck, stiff from resting in the same crooked position for so long.

“Like, two hours. I got your text, but I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You’re so CUTE, when you sleep, did you know that? I suffered for it, though. Some classist bitches kept pestering me to kick you out, I think they thought you were homeless. I told them it’s my café, I do whatever the fuck I please, if they don’t like it, they can bust their privileged ass on out and leave me a tip to apologize.

“You’re a saint, Flo. How’s the Beca sitch’? Did she get the job?”

“She’s a little sketch, but she is sweet. I gave her the job and the apartment upstairs, she is working to pay the rent.”

“Wait, you have an apartment upstairs? How did I not know that?”

“Never asked. Also, we never see each other outside of work which is who's fault?” She sat down across from Chloe and held her in a lingering gaze.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have mascara all over my face? Stop looking at me like that.”

“No, I, um…does Beca feel familiar to you? I know you said you just met her, but, like, did you know of her before or something?” Flo’s glance slid sideways and the way that she presented the question placed Chloe in an odd and skeptical position, as if something other was meant.

“I don’t…I don’t think so? I haven’t talked to her much, I only met her last night. She was just…there, in that field by my house. Crying. I couldn’t just leave her there. Was that the wrong decision, Flo? Should I have called the police or something? God, I’m so tired I can’t think anymore.”  
“No, I think that that was the right decision. You have really helped out someone in need. So you are sure you have never met her before this?” Chloe was beginning to be concerned at Flo’s insistence.

“Well, not really. She’s rather charming when she chooses to be…and I feel like we could be friends, but no. Why?”

“No reason. You said you had only just met her when you brought her to me, and for some reason…I feel like I know her from somewhere…I don’t know.”

“Weird…Anyways, can I have a black coffee please? I really, _really_ , don’t want to fall asleep in the car on the way home.”

“For sure. Oh! come over here behind the counter, I have more to chat about.”

Chloe re-situated while Flo began making coffee and explaining that she had been thinking about having another Bella’s reunion, especially since all she had been hearing Chloe talk about when she came to the cafe, how boring her life was for the past couple weeks. Chloe faltered for only a moment before she agreed wholeheartedly.

“Of course! How long has it been? It feels like forever.”

“Bitch, too long. I was thinking maybe we could do it in three weeks? I know Aubrey is here for a weekend around then, I’ll have to check with her.”

“Sounds good.” She smiled despite herself.  
Life was taking a turn for the better that Chloe had not considered herself to need until now, and the prospect of whatever was around the corner tingled her brain. 

In a good way.


	6. once the lights go out

**_Higher City, Angel Habitat/Complex - 2:45 AM_ **

**_Half an hour post-transportation and five hours after Chloe’s accident._ **

_ Beca stumbled on her footing as she grasped around the edge of the doorframe, looking for a switch or a pull to shed light into the pitch-black space that expanded beyond the doors of her residence for the next who-knew-how-long. _

_ Her neck whined in an aggravating crick from sitting hunched over Chloe’s bedside for so long and her mind was mushed from the weight of stress, overtiredness, excessive adrenaline usage and above all else, of course--grief. The only thing keeping her from collapsing on the ground in the doorway of this small concrete hallway and weeping herself to sleep was the sentence she continued to recite to herself repetitively under her breath: “ _ Chloe’s alive, everyone’s safe, you’ll be okay.” 

_ She far from even entertained the possibility that the last part was rest assured, but the act of mouthing it repetitively had a numbing effect on her currently fragile mental stamina.  _

_ After fumbling for a few seconds, she huffed in exasperation and gave up trying to find a switch. Sleep was the only thing she had the brains to carry out. Deliberation over everything else that had transpired in the past four hours would be performed when her brain was a just little further away from falling apart.  _

_ The man at the front desk of the grey building had given her a small but heavy and lumpy grey drawstring rucksack before dropping her off alone in the dingy hall of her new quarters. She set it down by her feet now, using it to prop open the thick black door to let as much light into the room as possible. _

_ Hands outstretched, she shuffled inside and waited until her eyes adapted to the murky black interior. It took a few seconds but eventually the slight outlines of shapes faded into view and she finally spotted what she assumed was a thin standing-lamp in the corner. She stepped blindly towards it and jumped backwards a little when it suddenly flickered on, sensing her hand in the air a few inches before it.  _

_ The space was little more than a closet. Beca had little mind to care, too exhausted to be grumpy. Besides, it was pretty comfortable considering her own size. The walls and ceiling were simply white-washed cement and there was a foot by foot square to serve as a window at the farthest wall from the door, though it had little to no effect at this time of the night. She wondered briefly about the concept of daylight here and if there even was sun or moonlight. The sparse furniture was a bed, an old wooden sea-trunk, and a tiny porcelain sink in the corner. Beca placed her rucksack in the trunk and sank onto the stiff but not wholly uncomfortable pallet, lacking any sufficient drive in her to take anything off, including her shoes, or even get under the soft linen sheets. Her eyes fell shut and the relief of deep sleep ebbed impending in her mind’s eye. _

 

_ Yet her head pounded and her heart still fluttered at a sickening pace under her ribs. She found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes closed; the image of Chloe, pale and fragile in such a battered state after the accident, had etched itself clearly behind her eyelids. Her breathing was difficult to regulate (she was unsure if this was due to her thinking so deeply on the act of regulating it, or an actual physical anxious reaction) and the room was uncomfortably cold.  _

_ She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly.  _ _  
_ _ Everything was gone. Everything she and those she loved had worked so hard to build from so little was over and erased without trace. She had trudged heavily from wholly miserable to the happiest she had ever been without ease and certainly not in good time. All of that happiness. Up and gone like passing something eye-catching for its possible beauty in the sand on the beach, but upon running back to find it, its existence is nothing more than imagined. _

_ A distinct memory faded into view. It was more of a moving image (a gif, so to speak) than a memory, but she could hear distant and muffled voices as if she were standing outside the door of a closed cinema to a movie she wasn’t familiar with.  _

_ The image was of her and Chloe in their late teens resting under a filter of broken apricot sunset through a canopy of birch leaves shimmering above their heads. Chloe’s head rested on Beca’s shoulder as she ripped up the grass beneath her, spreading it over Beca’s legs like dirty confetti.  _

_ She didn’t  _ remember _ the scene as such. She only knew that it felt real. And that it ached her chest and throat and burned her eyes with the threat of tears. _

_ Now she could no longer withhold the prickling tears and shuddering sobs and resolved that if tiring herself out would be the only route she would be able to take towards a somewhat restful night, she would charge down its’ course at a thousand miles per hour, foot stomped on the gas pedal. _

_ She stretched and bided in the memory as deeply as she could. _

_ Her sobs reverberated softly in the small stone room.  _

_ Underneath this, a soft irregular ticking noise sounded from above and outside her window. She ignored it. As it got louder she recognized it to be rain, heavy and sheeted. This prodded her curiosity just enough; still shaking, she stood from the bed and wobbled over to the hand-sized window. Sure enough, though it was dark outside, blue light from a nearby pathway lamp lit up tiny cascading waterfalls down the thick pane.  _

_ “How fucking ironic,” she whispered. _

_ - _

Chloe called in sick the next day to work. She wasn’t positive why, she simply knew that the exasperation of her most mundane course of existence would eventually wear whatever mere being she had left into the shell of a personality akin to that of a tired old cat. 

The events of the past two days had stirred in her a sort of awakening for what it felt like to experience happenstances outside of her citadel of repetitive routine and emotional hibernation. Though it was not the most merry or enjoyable topics to mull over, she found herself wrapped in reflection often and began finding a need to force herself not to dwell on it so much as not to overthink to the point of obsession.

The urge to constantly check in on her odd rescue-project was difficult to quash but necessary. Chloe reminded herself that her relationship was barely visible with this human being--all she had done was let her stay the night and drive her into the city. They had barely even conversed. Still, the event had shaken her, and she had little else to think about. She convinced herself to only inquire into Beca’s situation in two days time when she was sure Beca had become a little more settled. She was confident that Flo was good hands and that she would care for her guest appropriately, especially since now she would be living above the cafe.

Except that Chloe found a bracelet resting on the coffee table by her couch that wasn’t hers. So she kind of had to go back to the cafe. Kind of.

-

It had taken the entire remainder of the day and most of the next to finally situate Beca into a somewhat habitable situation. After Chloe had left, Flo closed up early and she and her new employee spent several hours behind the counter and in the bakery as she showed her the ropes.   
Beca was happy to see how surprised and pleased Flo was at Beca’s natural agility and skill around the oven and the baked goods. Flo easily taught her to bake the four most popular pastries, specific to her family’s recipes, and how to make four of the simplest drinks on the menu to start out, as well as her way around the cash register. As the day came to a close, they left the cafe to rush their way through several more monotonous but still critical errands like setting up both a bank account and a small, temporary mobile phone. They stopped at Flo’s apartment a few doors down from the cafe before calling it a night and Flo piled Beca’s arms with enough food to last for a week or so.   
The following morning, Beca set out on her own to blunder her way through a T.J.Maxx and a shopping center to find some clothes that were--well, some clothes. Once she returned to the cafe they worked a little past 6:00 which came oddly fast (her orientation of time and its passing were still muddled and the work at Flo’s came naturally to her.)

Succeeding the whirlwind of toil they had conducted over the past two days, Flo expeditiously suggested that a trip downtown was in order and after twenty minutes of walking briskly through the chill of the celebratory evening, the pair dropped into two rotating stools in a colorfully-lit bar home to some very happy and boisterous company. It had been so long since Beca had had any alcohol, so she ordered the most obnoxious drink on the menu and four jello shots to split between them. 

“So, first real day back! How are you feeling?”

Beca sipped her syrupy cocktail and grimaced at the unaccustomed flavor of alcohol.  

“I don’t know. Everything’s kinda’ blurry right now, but my brain is sort of slacking off a little in the staying-awake-during-the-regular-daytime department. The time difference is so much more insane than when you swap from different time zones on earth ‘cause there are an extra four hours of daytime and an extra two of night. There aren’t sunsets either, the sky just goes black for a while which is actually really depressing.”

“Wait, so, do you have, like, powers or anything? Can you fly? You don’t have a halo, right?” Beca again decided to refrain from divulging her distressing ordeal concerning her glowing appendages. She had blissfully forgotten about that situation until Flo had mentioned powers, which threw her in a temporary whirlpool of apprehensive unease. 

“Not really, and no, I can’t fly. I mean, I can kinda’ tell when something is wrong with whoever I’m guarding, and I can slow down time by a couple of seconds, but that takes so much energy and I can only use it in emergencies. And you know about bringing the memories back, but that’s only if the memories have been taken away  _ by  _ heaven. They mostly spent time training us how to deal with any situation; so like, CPR, difficult-situation negotiation tactics, advanced martial arts and stuff.”

“Oh. That is boring.”

“Yeah, kind of.” Beca sipped her drink again which was less foul the second round, but still jarring.

“So how does  _ this- _ ” She gesticulated vaguely at Beca’s body which she understood as metaphorical- “work anyways?”

“Oh, well after you die, you can request to be a guardian and they put you through this huge crash course for protecting a human. After training you’re assigned one person to guard on earth for their whole life, starting whenever heaven thinks that person needs the most guidance. Sometimes that means bumping into them and becoming best friends with them or marrying and growing old with them. Sometimes you never even meet them in person, just help them from afar. You do what heaven dictates is best for them, so no complicated attachments. When they die, your memory is replaced in the mind of everyone you’ve ever met as someone else, so no one will recognize you when you go back to earth and you get sent back to heaven and reverted to the age you died to start with another assignment. You can never, um, retire or whatever, and apparently you can only stop once you’ve worn out your brain. And then they, you, know, cease you ‘cause you’re no good to them anymore.”

“Shit.” Flo had sat through staring at the dark brick wall behind the bar with a blank expression enunciating her contemplation of what Beca had revealed.

“‘Shit’ is right. I guess it sounds kind of cool when I describe it, but when I thought I was actually going to have to do it for, like, thousands of years, I was  _ really _ fuckin’ bummed, dude.”

“Understandable. But you hacked the heaven system, how does that work?”

“Yeah, hacked, or something. I don’t even know if they’ll be able to tell. They’re supposed to be able to connect with their angels but I severed that attachment when I changed my assignment. I think they-” Flo brought Beca’s expatiations to an abrupt halt, holding up her palm to signify silence and raising her phone to her ear, an apologetic glance tossed in Beca’ direction.

“Chloe! Hi! What’s up?” Beca squirmed a little on her stool at the sound of Chloe’s voice on the other end.  _ Speak of the devil.  _ She couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but she didn’t sound particularly troubled. Even so...

“Oh, okay. We’re at a bar downtown right now…uh huh. Yeah, she is all settled, we finished a few hours ago.”

Flo removed her phone from her ear and hid it under her chin to bring her attention to Beca. “She says she has a bracelet of yours?”

“Oh, um. I guess? I don’t really remember having one but-”

“She says it is not hers.”

“No, Flo, I said it might be.” 

“Okay...it  _ is  _ hers. You can drop it off at the café. Anything else?”

Beca seized Flo’s phone from her grasp. “Will you give us a sec’ Chloe?” She placed it on mute.

“Hey! What?!” Flo scrambled and stretched, trying desperately to reclaim her confused friend on the other end of the line, but Beca held it out of her reach, exasperated.

“Flo, why are you being like this?!”

Flo sighed heavily off of an exaggerated voiced inhale and rested her hands on Beca’s arm. Beca grew uncomfortable with the sudden sincerity in her voice. 

“Okay, listen. Beca, I know you did not come back for the Bellas. I know you just came back for Chloe. I think you really need some time to adjust on earth before you do anything rash. I don’t think you should be getting too close to her and I think that you are idealizing your situation.  _ Por el amor de Dios,  _ Chloe doesn’t even know who you are! You need to slow your ass down, girl! We have the Bella reunion soon. You can wait that long at least.”

Beca chewed on her lip thoughtfully. This was the first vocal confirmation of what she had been refraining from thinking over fully past the whispered voice of reason behind a closet door barely ajar in the very recesses of her mind. For the thousandth time that day she swallowed the reflection of how careless and hasty her actions had been. 

Beca had never dwelled so long and hard over someone or something as she had over Chloe whilst in heaven. Only her mother’s death came as remotely close a subject to how ruthlessly Beca obsessed (Obsess - used very much in the dictionary sense; not lightly. See also; beset, consume, haunt, etc.) over Chloe and her accident. Considering this, a complete and detailed plan would definitely make sense in this context; however, obsession to this point considers little factual influence in a non-idealized, material world. Hence, Beca’s rash behavior and her reactions to Chloe in palpable physical situations.

“Okay... maybe you’re right. I guess I was really weighing everything on Chloe liking me for me, and not all the stuff we shared in the past, you know? Sorry about not saying anything about it, and I really am  _ so _ happy to see you. I love you so much. All of you. Please don’t think I didn’t come back for you guys. You mean everything to me, we’re family. I just, you know... Please schedule the reunion soon?”

“Yes. Fine, I will.” Beca slowly retracted her arm and placed the phone in Flo’s expectant (but now softened and more sympathetic) outstretched palm. She unmuted the call.

“Hi, Chloe, sorry about that, drunk asshole was bothering us. You can bring the bracelet to the reunion. By the way, do we have some dates for that yet? Aubrey should be here this month, right? Yes. No, uh-huh. Okay great, perfect, text the group-chat about it? Okay, bye!” She hung up and grinned at Beca. “Two weeks, as long as everyone is free!”

“Ugh, dude what am I gonna’ do in the meantime?” 

“Well, I know that you only came back for-,” Beca threw her a glare and Flo surrendered, hands in the air. “Sorry, right, a couple reasons, and it is all you have got your heart set on, but you need to take a few steps back. I have to say Beca, you really didn’t plan this very well. You need to establish a solid base here because this is your life now. You may be an angel, but if you think about it, I am, like, definitely a saint for doing all this for you.”

Beca flipped her off and returned to wincing down the copious amounts of fluid she had spent an annoying amount of cash on. 

“For real though, you’re right. And I really... appreciate everything you’re doing for me Flo, it means a lot.” Flo smiled and nodded.

-

Perhaps if Chloe hadn’t felt so out of place, she would have asked Flo to let her join the girls at the bar. But for some reason, something about the phone call and the whole situation whispered a sense of exclusion -- well intentioned or not, she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t felt this socially anxious in a while. Her mental health was not even anything she had thought about in depth for a few years and she had long ago passively accepted the concept that with age came dampened emotions, and that such was a perfectly natural sequence. If nothing would ever give her real pleasure again, so be it. 

Another walk. Another achingly familiar song. Another foot in front of the other. Another fifteen minutes later and she stood in front of a deep, deep dark pond, rocky banks powdered with grey-blue frost. The water reflected with the perfection of a mirror the nothingness of the ashy sky. 

Chloe now stared into this nothingness -- the sort of staring where everything at once is what those who are staring can see, but they aren’t looking, just seeing and thinking. She stood, leaning slightly in a gentle trance as she remembered the time she had dived into this same water. She had choked and snorted through her nose as she had come up for air and swallowed some accidentally. A friend on the bank had been slumped over in hysterics at her fruitless efforts to cease wheezing and laughing and coughing and yelling at her friend to stop.    
In her mind she imagined that it was Beca who sat beside the water giggling at her.  _ Stupid and weird that you’d think of her _ , she thought, but she couldn’t properly remember who it had really been, and the image of Beca fit comfortably well in the situation. 

She closed her eyes and settled deeper into the memory, in place but outside of time.    
In vein, she tried to remember who had actually been there to witness the moment. She couldn’t even remember when it had happened. This was not a memory she had thought about in...well, truthfully, she had completely forgotten about it since it had happened. The age of the memory prevented her from remembering details. Only present, was the sweet feeling of the moment, a honey-like residue, resting delicately in her conscious.

She was now fully trying to convince herself, however, that Beca had not been there. She finally shook her head as if to dislodge the memory and sharply inhaled cold air, opening her eyes to see, hunched over on the side of the banks with chin rested on knees, none other than the subject of her specious nostalgia. Chloe blinked several times and recognized the figure to be but a log, dark and rubbed to clump from weather and wear. Now freaking herself out she rose swiftly and promptly speed walked for her home, holding herself firmly from looking around for fear of misreading another inanimate object. 

_ She wasn’t there, obviously she wasn’t there. Just someone who reminds me of her, or looks like her. Obviously. _

  
  



End file.
